


Nobody Cares

by Unicoranglais



Series: SDR2 Character Oneshot Project [2]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/M, Heir Guitar, K-Ton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicoranglais/pseuds/Unicoranglais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody cares about you. And how! </p><p>(Spoilers for things up to and including Chapter One, contains a complete annihilation of the fourth wall, Ibuki-centric- written for the SDR2 Character Oneshot Project on Tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Cares

_Written for the SDR2 Character Oneshot Project, see[here](http://spoonerdog.tumblr.com/post/63723565444/its-listin-time-behold-my-latest-runaway) for more details on this._

**Nobody Cares**

Hey! You – yeah,  _you_ , Hinata!

(( _you look over your shoulder - then promptly wish you hadn’t; because she’s coming at you like a cargo train (albeit much trendier). You don’t think she’s going to be able to stop - and to be honest, she_  doesn’t - _she goes flying straight past you, then whirls on the grass to face you, sending green leaves everywhere-))_

Ibuki’s got a question for you!

(( _a question? Well, at least she’s not trying to kill you; not like, say, everybody else. Or maybe she is trying to kill you, maybe distract you or find out HOW she’s going to kill you, but somehow… Yeah, no, probably n-_ ))

Ibuki wants to know if you’ve been told, anytime in your life, that nobody cares about what you do, that it won’t make a bit of difference – so, have you?

(( _much as you’d like to cough up a generic response, it’s somehow gone dead on your tongue; you struggle to come up with anything much. After all, you have… haven’t… don’t remember, anything, something-))_

No, no, nonononononono (did you count how many times Ibuki said ‘no?) – it’s not like being told that you’re going to  _fail_ per se. More like, like… uh, hang on, Ibuki’s thinking – ah, it’s kind of like someone saying that you’re going to stay in limbo for the rest of your life, isolated and friendless. You’re not being told (in the laughing, mocking tones of an anime villain, perhaps? Ibuki thinks so!) that you’re going to die or suffer; nope, you’re just being told that you’re going to eke out an existence best compared to a monotone. Yup, believe that, and you’ll just be the noise of Ibuki’s guitar when it gets too close to the amplifier – or even – ooh, you could be the noise of machine when this one bloke in a hospital ward flatlines! And then, when someone shuts if off because the sound’s getting really annoying–

(( _she stops dead, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s been suddenly shot from behind - not only stopping dead before you, but standing dead before you, too. It makes sense, doesn’t it? A terrible sort of sense, an ugly logic, but… well, that kind of death would almost fit her, wouldn’t it? Spontaneously shot-_

_-she straightens, and you almost sigh in relief, almost groan, but in the end do neither-))_

Okay, Ibuki thinks that’s kind of enough of that. That’s scary stuff, yeah? Of course it is! But, still, sometimes… Ibuki kind of wonders what’s worse: being told you’re going  _down_ , or being told that no–one cares enough to bother trying taking you down.

What do you think?

(( _try all you like to think, you don’t get long; barely a couple of seconds - a button press’s worth of pause - before she’s speeding off again, her narration going at a speed frightening. Is she even listening to you? Maybe you’ll never know, it’s not like you could ever ask-_ ))

Being alone is, like,  _way_ worse, right? It is, Ibuki thought you’d think that, she always knows what you’re thinking (unless she got mixed up with someone else again, Ibuki’s very sorry if that happened) – and for a long time, Ibuki thought that being told that nobody cared was the Worst Possible Thing, with a capital W and a P and a T. Plenty of the Big Acts are super–controversial, right? Lots of people hate them! But they survive,  _because_ people hate them – the only way to kill a Big Act is to have everyone stop caring about it, yeah? Yeah! Ibuki loves it when people agree with her!

The only thing is… there’s just… this one little problem…

(( _a mini-quest, surely - it’s not like anyone could tell you any of their actual problems-_ ))

What do you do when Mr. Right tells you that nobody cares about you?

In a super–romantic way? 

On one knee?

Holding a little box in one hand? (And, okay, so he’s got a kebab in the other, but Ibuki is fairly sure that the box is more important.)

With this total ‘marry me’ look in his eyes, because Ibuki likes things to be  _obvious?_

(( _you stand agog, because… well, that kind of went a long way away from the mini-quest, didn’t it? So, she’s really going to rush you like this and demand that you talk to her about Mr. Right, despite-_

 _-and then you get the feeling that she’s not really talking to you anymore; she’s got this far away look in her eyes, she’s staring over your head. With only the faintest of sighs, you resign yourself; at least she’s not going to kill you-_ ))

Okay, okay, so that’s, like, pulled right out of Ibuki’s head, it’s happening  _right now_ and stuff, but it’s going to need some context, some pretty pictures to show you all, so let’s get to the story – it’s not her special talent, but Hinata will type with this old laptop Ibuki’s got here, and you people just pretend that Ibuki’s a painter, okay? She’s a word-painter, yeah? See, watch Ibuki’s brushstrokes, they’re  _important_  – you’ll see the detail when you step back and have a look. This is a rectangle, see? It’s a cream–coloured rectangle; look, Ibuki will now add in dark brown patches to show the contours – don’t lean too close, or she might just get paint on you – ah, see,  _here_ we are! Look again – it’s magic! With just paint, Ibuki’s made you an open shoebox of sorts, which she’s going to call a room. Oh, Ibuki knows it doesn’t _look_  much like one, but if she just puts these pretty paper dolls in, and tells you their names (that awesome looking one with the  _hair_ is Ibuki, and those two angry ones in the suits are Ibuki’s parents, about as loving as soggy bread in a limp paper bag) –  _well_ , if you have a look, then Ibuki’s willing to bet that–

– hey, look! It’s magic! You’re in a room, all ghostly and stuff, watching Ibuki’s parents have a rousing battle of wits with Ibuki herself!  _Sweet!_ See the way Ibuki’s hair glints in the light; it’s not coloured, just black and straight, but it still looks mega–cool! And now, observe how loud Ibuki’s voice can go! “IBUKI IS NOT NOT  _NOT_ GOING TO SCHOOL SCHOOL!”, she yells, and please take note of how Ibuki’s repeating words because she’s so so so sosososooooo  _angry,_ and her eyes are all narrowed and therefore super–awesome! Yes, even when she’s upset, Ibuki really does look a treat, doesn’t she? She does!

One of the parents holds a flier, which she presses gently into the teenager’s hand (okay, so actually Ibuki moves the flier and presses it to the paper with a piece of Blu–Tack, but you’re in magic–land).  “D–dear, you know you’re not going to  _ordinary_ school…”

“But Ibuki  _wants_ to go to a–”

“Enough!”, Ibuki’s father shouts, though not quite as loudly as Ibuki can shout (see, he’s not using capital letters!), and he pushes dear Ibuki out the door, staring her in the eye the entire time. “No–one  _cares_ what you want!”

Then, everything’s  _white_  – white, because the paper dolls are on a piece of white paper – white, because Ibuki doesn’t remember the car–fight, or anything that happened afterwards. But, Ibuki supposes no–one cares about that, about the amnesia, no–one _cares_ –

(( _and to be honest, you probably don’t really care, either, not after you’ve heard the whole nasty parents thing from Tsumiki and Souda - but sit with her, and you listen to her chatter, and you type  out her words in stony silence-_ ))

–and out comes the paintbrush; look, see, because Ibuki’s painting  _another_ rectangle, next to the room–rectangle, only this one isn’t a cream–colouredone; it’s a light blueish colour, like the sky reflected in a piece of really shiny metal, like the steel knobs on Ibuki’s guitar. This background takes a while to get right, because there’s lots of different shades involved, and it’s all blurry; but if you squint, you’ll see that it’s this great big tower, all silver metal reflecting the sky around it. There’s a large, old–fashioned clock face on the front (that’s the white blob Ibuki drew), and those words underneath it read ‘HOPE’S PEAK ACADEMY’, in case you were wondering. Ibuki’s putting a dear little paper doll of herself there, right in front of the door, only this one looks happy – ah, look, here’s another doll, a  _different_  doll, all dressed up in a little orange kimono, her blonde hair sticking straight out in two enormous pigtails – look away, look again, and–

“Hellohellohulloooooaaaah!”, Ibuki yells, her greeting turning into a surprised scream as she crashes straight into the other girl, sending the two of them into a soft flowerbed – see, they’re moving, it’s  _magic!_ “Isn’t it g–g–grrrrreat to be back at school?, she giggles, helping her friend up, before prancing first left, then right. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! It’s great to see you again, Saionji!” She turns to the other students – hey, just imagine them, Ibuki’s not good at painting crowds – waving at them happily as they file in. “Hello! A very Happy Back To School Day to you! And to you! And to you! Actually, let’s have H.B.T.S.Ds all round! We can get Hanamura to make a cake!”

(( _Hanamura? Saionji? Those words catch your interest as you type them out - and somehow, you think that Ibuki knows more about Before than she’s ever let on; your boredom is tempered by interest, for the moment. But, as always with Ibuki, there’s simply no room to ask questions, because-_ ))

“Ibuki”, Saionji pouts, looking utterly unamused at her friend’s actions, “you do realize that no–one  _cares_ , right?”

“Yeah, yeah! Yeah, that’s all riiiiight!”, Ibuki sings, and now Ibuki will flip the paper dolls over, to show that they’re going in.

Not to hide that Ibuki’s…  _crying_  or anything, honest. After all, Ibuki can’t show her real emotions, not ever (and definitely not with a paper doll), and you don’t care about details (no–one cares, not about the details). She’ll just move the little paper dolls onto the white now, and start again, start over, because it was all white from there, and then…

(( _she stops for a while. You think you might have heard a sniffle, but… maybe you didn’t hear it. Ibuki doesn’t cry, right? Yeah, she said so herself-_ ))

…actually, Ibuki’s just gonna put that piece of paper to one side and start work on a new piece – ‘cos it’s bad work, yes? Hey, hey – Ibuki doesn’t care if you like it, she’s not gonna be happy with anything less than  _perfect_ , buster! Nevermind, that’s all past context–y stuff anyway – Ibuki will be sure to burn it later, but for now – ahhhh, look, look, she’s painting again! Ibuki loves painting – so much so, that she’s using two different colours this time; creamy–white for the beach, silvery–blue for the night sky–

– _hello_ , magic!

“Ibuki wants to know, Mr.Porkfeet, if… um… er… well, what Ibuki means, meanie eenie miney moeza–”

The big man shifts from foot to foot, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger. “Get on with it. I am a very busy man, and I  _am_ supposed to be standing guard over the party in just a few minutes.”

“D–do you…r–really…”

 _‘Care’_  is what Ibuki wants to say, but… heh, it never comes out. She desperately wants to ask if Togami honestly cares about her like he said the other day – about the others too, of course, but especially about her; on this lonely island full of people who don’t like pop music, she wants to – no,  _needs to –_ hear that someone cares about her, about what she does, about her precious, frail life. It’s feedback, see; Ibuki thrives on feedback, positive or negative, but to be told that no–one cares is more like  _guitar_ feedback – ah, no, Ibuki already used that simile! Just ignore that bit for a little while, until you forget about the beginning, and then it’ll be fine – the point Ibuki’s trying to  _make_ here is, little paper–doll Ibuki wants to ask if he cares. But instead… well, maybe it’d be better to just say that Ibuki’s speech impediment kind of got in the r–

“DO YOU REALLY CARROT?!?”

–awwww,  _cool_ , so showing really  _does_ work better than telling! Ibuki didn’t know that, so she’s very sorry to all the readers for all the telling she made you sit through and all that.

(( _if this is the truth about last night, though… You pause at the keyboard, waiting for the girl to begin the story again. Could Ibuki be trying to tell you something? Or is she trying to tell herself something? Or maybe she’s trying to tell someone else, maybe not even someone on the island… You don’t know for sure, but there’s a message in it all, there’s something-_ ))

“I beg your par– actually, I don’t think I should even dignify that with an answer”, the other teenager harrumphs; though he does stay, and he does wait, oddly (( _almost_ _uncharacteristically_ )) patient for someone of his Super–High–School–Level talent. “Tell me already, Midoa. What do you  _want_?”

“Do… Mr. Porkfeet, do you really… c–ca… um…”

“Care?” At that, Togami pauses for a long moment, then slowly looks at the ground. “Was that… what you were going to say?”

She nods, he drops to one knee – and guess what, Ibuki’s just gonna casually sweep all that paper right off the table, ‘cos she’s got a question. And, and,  _and,_ Ibuki’s question goes like this, with a bass riff and a snarling guitar, and–

–well,  _no_ , actually, because you wouldn’t be able to hear the question if Ibuki did that. Nope, Ibuki will just ask you - and you too, Hinata - and she’ll be nice and quiet and all if you answer: What do you do when Mr. Right proceeds to tell you that nobody cares about you?

In a super–romantic way?

On one knee?

Holding a little box in one hand, etcetera etcetera etcetera? (Isn’t ‘etcetera’ a great word?)

(( _Togami… He proposed last night, right before he…? No way, that can’t be right - the Togami you know isn’t that sort of person, at all - you disregard Ibuki’s story as a story, fiction, nothing more, and-_ ))

Well, what Ibuki thinks you should do is tell him right then and there, tell him that you care about him. Then you dance off into the sunset, happy endings all round. Ibuki will write a cool song for your wedding, y’know?

(( _she leans into your ear, hissing out her last words with such sudden venom that you know that you’ve no choice but to write them down, and so you do, fingers panicking on the clunky keys-_ ))

And what you  _don’t_ do, by the way, is what Ibuki did, which was to run away crying, and leave him to go back into the party.

Because Ibuki knows full well that you don’t always get another chance…

(( _was that a sob-_ ))

…and that he might not have meant ‘nobody cares’ in quite  _that_ way…

(( _oh god, that was a sob, she’s-_ ))

…because, what he might have meant to say, is that he’s just a nobody.

(( _crying, you don’t dare look, but you’re sorely tempted, though you know there’s nothing you can do-_ ))

A nobody, who cares.

(( _she’s gone, running away with a speedy ‘See ya!’ before you can ask her what she was on about, what she meant, because how could Togami possible be a nobody; he’s the SHSL HEIR, for goodness’s sake-_ ))

{{“Ibuki… If you’ll let me speak in the third person, Nobody cares about you…”}}


End file.
